


Hunters in Space

by fictionalcandie



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005), Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Magical Accidents, Teleportation, Time Shenanigans, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-10
Updated: 2010-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:38:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalcandie/pseuds/fictionalcandie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam was really, really, really not expecting this. Dean… just wants to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sam

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 10 August 2010 (Chapter One) and 13 August 2010 (Chapter Two). Set post- _Serenity_ in the Firefly 'verse, and post-Season Five of _Supernatural_ ; AU for all seasons beyond that.

They’re somewhere in Iowa when it happens. They don’t exactly have a case, but they’re together, they have a motel room, and they’ve just picked up a small collection of very dusty but probably really useful books from someone Bobby knows, and Bobby’d told Sam he could look through them as much as he wanted before they delivered them. 

Not to mention, Dean’s been sleeping properly for the first time since Sam threw himself (and Adam) down the hole in that stupid Kansas cemetery — even though Dean won’t admit that he was barely sleeping during the time he was with Lisa. Sam can just tell stuff like that.

One could almost argue that things are going well.

One would have to _not_ be someone who fell asleep and let Sam stay up unsupervised with an ancient text of unknown origin or purpose, but that’s beside the point.

Sam’s trying to decipher something which on the surface _appears_ to be extremely garbled Latin (but which might actually be something totally different), and doesn’t realize that he’s speaking aloud until he hears the last word of the passage leave his lips, just as he’s about to turn the page in the thick tome, and by then it’s too late — far, far too late.

He feels the strange, cold sparking within himself at the same moment as he realizes what he must have done. It’s a tugging feeling, pulling on something not connected to his body but inside his self, and it makes his soul hurt. It scares him and he doesn’t understand it and it _fucking goddamn hurts_ , and instinctively, he does what he’s always done when he comes across anything which elicits that specific combination of feelings within him; he reaches out for Dean.

It’s a blind action, because as the tugging intensifies — working up to something, he can tell — his vision whites out, and he loses all feeling in his limbs, but it’s still something he can do because even if he can’t see his brother, he _knows_ where he is, like he’s always been able to. He throws everything that he has at the bright spot of warmth in the world that is intrinsically Dean, and wraps himself around the essence of his brother for all he’s worth, clutching tight with all he has even after his world goes completely vacant.

—

Sam comes to on an unfamiliar hard bed, smaller than he’s used to, with a strange, non-Impala mechanical purring in his ears. Wherever it is smells stale and recycled, but mostly of girl, and he cannot sense Dean anywhere. Panicked, he tries to spring upright, but succeeds only in lurching upwards for a moment and promptly collapsing back downwards.

“Oh,” says a soft, feminine voice — except it comes from a pair of lips which Sam could _swear_ that he feels as if the were his own. “Oh, dear.”

 _What the fuck_ , Sam thinks, furiously. He tries to sit up again, but this time he doesn’t move at all.

 _Please don’t do that_ , says that same feminine voice, but Sam can tell, somehow, that this time nobody actually speaks out loud. _Simon will be checking on me in a moment, and if he thinks I’m not sleeping well, he’ll insist on a smoother. I would prefer to avoid unnecessary medications._

Sam has no idea what to make of any of that. He still can’t feel Dean anywhere. _What. The. Fuck?_

The voice laughs. _Shh_ , it tells him, just as he hears a sort of sliding noise and registers that a door has been opened not far from him.

“Are you awake, River?” a completely different voice — male — asks concernedly.

Sam goes still and quiet, like he’s supposed to when outnumbered by people or things of an unknown threat level. The girl does, too, in a way which, from the inside, Sam can easily identify as playing possum.

“River?” the man says again, more softly, and when there’s still no response, he says it a third time in barely more than a whisper. A few seconds later, there’s the sliding noise in reverse as the door closes.

This time, Sam can hear the footsteps as the man walks away.

“All right,” the girl declares, after a long pause to be sure the man is out of earshot. She sits up, which is enough to confirm to Sam that for some reason they appear to both be in the same body. “I apologize for Simon. He worries.”

 _Where am I_? Sam demands, ignoring her remark. _Where’s Dean_?

“You’re on the Firefly _Serenity_.”

 _And Dean_?

“I don’t know any Deans, I apologize.”

_Tall cocky guy; green eyes, spiky hair, acts butch because he’s too pretty?_

“I haven’t seen anyone matching the parameters of that description.”

She sounds sincere, and if she’d seen Dean, she’d have remembered him. So, no Dean. Sam processes that, and tries not to panic. _Why am I here_?

“You were floating around in the Black like space trash. I heard you screaming, and when I realized that you were incorporeal, I decided to bring you with me. Temporarily. Perhaps we’ll be able to locate your body.”

 _Incorporeal? My_ body _? Are you— am I_ dead _?_

“I don’t believe so,” the girl says after a moment’s thought. “You feel nothing like the ghosts.”

 _Well, that’s somethi— Did you say_ space _trash?_

—

Sam is in space. He’s also several centuries forward in time. And _he’s in space_. He probably should not find that weirder than the fact that he’s sharing the body of a nineteen-year-old girl who can read minds if she really wants to, which he is, but he totally does.

The ship they’re on is named _Serenity_ , which Sam liked a lot more before he learned _why_ it was named that, and he earned some sort of awesome points with the girl when he didn’t even blink over the captain’s (and the mechanic’s, really) deep and abiding devotion to it. Maybe because he hasn’t witnessed the whole story, but Sam’s pretty sure that Dean would still win the ‘psychotically in love with his car’ contest. (No, really; Dean had tried to marry the Impala once. Sam has photographic proof, and it’s not even doctored. There’s a reason Dean doesn’t drink tequila anymore.)

Frustratingly for Sam, there is no sign whatsoever of his brother, and no clue as to what brought him to where he is. All he has are his last memories, and River’s less than helpful account of finding him.

That’s the girl’s name, River. She’s a psychic, and she likes him, for which he counts himself lucky, under the circumstances. Simon is her older brother; he’s a doctor, and his wife, the ship’s mechanic, is named Kaylee. Kaylee would make Sam’s teeth hurt, if he had teeth of his own, she’s that cheerful; Dean would probably just want to fuck her, because _damn_ , is she cute. There’s also the captain, Mal, who has already uncomfortably reminded Sam twice of John Winchester, and the captain’s girlfriend, Inara, as well as Zoe, the first mate, who might’ve scared the shit out of Sam if he were anyone but who he is.

Oh, and their gun-hand, Jayne, who is as big and almost as broad as Sam _ought_ to be, and a hell of a lot meaner. Sam can’t decide whether he likes the other man, or wants to punch him in the face (River, Sam learns, does both).

None of them get told about Sam’s presence.

River is apparently used to keeping secrets.

She’s nice, really, and her deadpan sarcasm makes Sam wish he had his own body back so that he could flash his dimples every time she says something that the rest of the crew don’t realize is a joke. He doesn’t really mind sharing her head, though — probably helped quite a bit by how much like him she is when it comes to remembering eclectic trivia — even if he _could_ do without their shared nightmares. She’s… fun.

Sometimes, River lets him have control, when there’s no-one around who would recognize Sam-behavior from her as being weird. She even lets him take over on a job, once, because she’s tired and he swears up and down that he’s more than capable of shooting people if he needs to. (“Thought you didn’t like to look,” muttered Jayne, once they were on their way back to the ship and River was controlling herself again. She’d smiled serenely and replied, “I don’t. It’s just easier for some people.” Jayne had grunted and concluded, “Well, ‘s not like it matters; you shoot gorram straight, either way.”)

There’s an antsy itch at the back of their mind every time he thinks about Dean, though — which is often — and River sympathizes wonderfully, but neither of them have any idea what they can do to figure out if he’s been thrown forward in time as well, or even how to find him if that’s the case. It isn’t as if they could put an ad in a paper, looking for lost time-travelers from Earth-That-Was, or anything.

Sam’s been sharing River Tam’s body for four and a half weeks when they land on Persephone because they’ve received word from Badger about a possible job. They’re hard enough up for cash — and bored enough, if anyone were to listen to Jayne — that Mal authorizes Kaylee to collect a few passengers, if she spots any that she likes. Because Kaylee likes everyone, they’ll almost definitely be getting at least one new face on board.

“May I stay with Kaylee?” requests River abruptly, while Jayne, Mal and Zoe are arming themselves in the usual bristling fashion they employ when facing Badger.

Mal blinks. “Something the matter, Albatross?”

River shakes her head quickly. “No, Captain Daddy.”

“Let her stay if she wants,” mutters Jayne, not looking away from where he’s checking the ammunition clip of a gun bigger than River’s shoulder and entire arm. “Badger’ll be too busy makin’ calf-eyes to deal if we take ‘er, anyways.”

“I think it’d be shiny for River to stay,” opines Kaylee brightly. “She can help me pick out passengers.”

“Precisely,” River agrees.

 _Why would you want to do that_? grumbles Sam, who had actually been somewhat looking forward to seeing the weaselly man who looked so much like Crowley’s meat suit again. The almost-familiar face was oddly soothing.

 _Shh, wait,_ River says, a smug feeling washing through Sam from her brain. _You will understand and comprehend soon. Here, you may take us for now._

Other than a deep suspicion of her motives, he has no idea what might be up with River, so he goes with it.

—

Kaylee has only been sitting in her pretty little lawn chair, twirling her ridiculous parasol, for fifteen minutes when the scruffy man gets close to her. Sam can tell from the way she sits up straighter that this one is good looking — Kaylee is like a magnet for awesome, or something — and he’s going to roll his eyes, until he gets a good look at the guy. He notices the bow-legged gait first, then the cocky set to the shoulders, the carefully alert way the man holds himself. Then Sam trains his gaze higher and— the face is painfully familiar, with full lips, sharp cheekbones and green eyes that Sam knows better than any other pair in the world.

Sam almost trips over his own feet, a confused mix of relief and terror welling in his chest. It isn’t necessarily— it might not actually be _his_ Dean, whatever the thumping possessive awareness in his borrowed heart insists; it might just be someone who _looks_ like him.

Maybe-Dean isn’t wearing jeans, of course, or his precious leather jacket, which would worry Sam except that, well, he is in the body of a _girl_. Who knows whether what brought _Sam_ here actually brought Dean’s clothes, too? Much less _him_ , not to mention his fucking _body_.

“Hey there,” maybe-Dean greets, walking up to the mechanic at the end of the cargo ramp. “This, uh. This ship taking on passengers?”

Sam, watching from up the ramp just inside the cargo bay, nearly shouts, because that — _that_ — is _his brother’s_ voice, that is _Dean_. Cadence, intonation, word choice — it’s all _Dean_.

“Maybe,” replies Kaylee, grinning. “We could use the coin, and Cap’n isn’t opposed to the possibility. If I like ya.”

Dean grins back at her, the charming stupid Dean grin that Sam’s so familiar with, and then he— doesn’t flirt. “I can pay, I promise,” he says instead, and Sam doesn’t doubt that he can; all his skill at hustling would have to translate to _something_ here.

A non-flirting Dean, though, that _does_ make Sam doubt a little.

He catches Dean’s eyes for a half a second, without even a hint of recognition crossing the face of the man who might be his brother, and has to run away before he makes everyone think River’s having another episode.

—

River lets him know when Mal and the others are almost back, and Sam talks himself into going back down to the cargo bay in time to catch the tail end of Kaylee introducing maybe-Dean to the Captain. She’s smiling really widely, and it’s been almost a half an hour so obviously Dean broke out at least a little of his awkward-earnest-pretty boy charm, but Mal doesn’t look all that impressed — which isn’t really surprising, with something Dean-shaped smiling at a person who brings out his protective instincts.

“He can pay, right?” asks Mal suspiciously. Jayne rolls his eyes and moves to leave the cargo bay, just as Sam steps off the catwalk and comes toward them.

Sam maybe can’t help smiling widely at Dean — he’d be showing the very depths of his dimples, if he were in his own body — and suddenly Jayne stops. He glares suspiciously at Dean.

“Sure he can,” Kaylee is saying brightly. She and Mal both look toward Dean, who obediently produces a… surprising number of credits. Jayne grunts, and Zoe gives a short, startled whistle that causes Dean to flash a quick grin at her as he tucks all that money away.

“Well that, I guess I have to believe,” replies Mal, looking much more cheerful suddenly. Sam suspects that the price of passage just went up. A lot. “I’m Malcom Reynolds. I own this boat. You’ve met Kaylee; this is Zoe, my first mate, and our gun-hand, Jayne.”

Mal doesn’t mention anything about River, and Sam’s grateful at the same time as he realizes that the rest of the crew is apparently drawing the usually-correct conclusions about Dean and women. Dean must notice, because he glances toward River and clears his throat loudly enough to attract less than pleased looks from the captain and the mercenary.

“I’m Dean,” he says quickly, while Mal and Jayne are still frowning at him. He half raises his hand, like he’s going to gesture to someone standing next him, and opens his mouth to add something. He gets through “And th—” before he snaps his mouth closed again, clenching his jaw and folding his hand into a tight fist.

 _And this is Sam_.

Sam hears it, even if Dean doesn’t say it.

This is definitely his Dean.

“I’d say I’m pleased to meet you, Dean, but I’m not entirely certain that I am,” says the captain, meeting Dean’s gaze with a civil enough look. “There are a few rules on this ship, if you decide to come aboard.”

“I’m used to rules and conditions,” mutters Dean, and only Sam would understand the bitter, sneering curl at the corner of Dean’s mouth.

Mal makes a thoughtful noise. “First of all, my crew is off limits.”

“Off limits?”

“No flirting, no harassing, no rutting. You touch a single one of them, and you’re off the ship. I might not even wait ‘til land.”

“Not gonna be a problem,” Dean replies evenly, and Sam feels something sick curl in his stomach. Dean has already seen too many hot women on this ship for his rejection of them to be normal.

“Better not be,” Jayne mutters scowlingly.

Dean smiles coolly, non-threatening but unintimidated. “Oh, it won’t.”

Mal considers him for another moment before nodding, apparently satisfied. “Also, whatever your business, it don’t effect me and mine. I don’t ask questions, but I won’t have it getting in the way of our business.”

“Yeah, that’s… not gonna be a problem, either,” mutters Dean.

“Uh huh.” Mal looks thoughtful. “So, then, Dean. Where are you headed?”

Dean shrugs, and gives a low, fatalistic laugh. “To be honest, I don’t know, and I don’t much care.”

“You runnin’ from something?” demands Jayne.

“No.” Dean looks away, down at his feet like he has never, ever done when facing strangers. “I… lost someone.” He shrugs, too sharp and not casual enough. “Now I’ve got no reason to be anywhere.”

“Ah,” Mal murmurs, like suddenly a whole bunch of things make sense, and Sam supposes that they do, in the small part of himself that can be bothered to care what the captain thinks at all.

It’s a very, very small part of himself, considering the look on Dean’s face at that moment.

Sam wants to scream.

—

If Sam had his way, he would have dragged Dean off and explained things, and begged Dean to believe him, that first afternoon. As it was, he did _not_ have his own way, and once he’d calmed down enough to actually understand the point River was making, he has to agree that it wasn’t the smartest idea he’s ever had.

For one thing, Jayne probably would have shot the man without asking a single question.

Sam and River finally decide that it’ll be best if they wait until Dean’s alone and sneak up on him. It isn’t easy, because Jayne seems to consider it his job — which, all right, it sort of is — to stay within freaking _whispering_ distance of Dean the first day or so that he’s on board, even though they’re in the Black and putting distance between themselves and Persephone within an hour of his arrival.

Sam finally manages to catch Dean alone in the hallway outside the passenger dorms, not long before dinner on the second day he’s been with them. River’s half of their mind helpfully assures him that everyone is elsewhere and they’re not likely to be interrupted, and then goes quiet.

“Uh, Dean?” he says, to get his brother’s attention.

Dean looks over at him; there is no immediate, instinctive Sammy-smile on his face, and Sam abruptly wants to cry. He doesn’t.

“Yeah?” Dean is saying. “What can I do for you… River, right?”

“Actually, Dean,” and he pauses to clear River’s throat, “do you remember the time that teenager was in Sam’s body and you didn’t notice?”

Dean goes completely, totally still. The look on his face is very, very far from friendly. “What are you talking about?” he asks dangerously.

“How easy do you think it’d be for you to recognize Sam in someone else’s body?” Sam pushes on hurriedly, before he loses his nerve. “Would you? Be able to?”

Dean is up in her face before Sam can blink. “What. Do you know. About Sam?”

“Everything. Dean, it’s me,” says Sam earnestly.

Dean narrows his eyes. “Christo.”

“I’m not possessed,” Sam replies. “I’m _Sam_.”

“You are not Sam,” Dean spits, and he looks honestly ready to wring River’s neck. “There is no way.”

“There is! I swear, Dean, it’s me. How else would I know about m— about Sam?”

“The captain said you were a Reader, that you could see people’s thoughts,” accuses Dean.

The knowledge that his brother is thinking about him, has _been_ thinking about him — not that he really expected Dean to be able to think about much _else_ , if Sam was missing — makes Sam feel kind of like crying. Again. He is such a _girl_.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think you’re thinking about Jessica, and I know all about _her_. And about Cassie and Lisa, and Jo, and Ellen and Bobby and Castiel and the _Impala_ , Dean. I am _Sam_.”

Dean narrows his eyes, but Sam must have said something at least a little right, because he looks like he’s considering the possibility. “What about our parents?”

“Azazel killed them,” Sam says promptly. “Mom when I was a baby and Dad after the car crash.”

A muscle on Dean’s jaw twitches. “If you’re Sam, how come the crew on this thing thinks you’re somebody named River?”

“She’s in here, too,” explains Sam quickly. “She’s— she’s psychic, and she… she’s sharing her body with me. I don’t know how.”

“So.” Dean takes a deep breath. The shuttered look on his face starts to melt away, turning painfully open and hopeful and _lost_. “You— _Sammy_?”

“Oh, god, _Dean_ ,” gasps Sam, and then he _has_ to hug Dean, even if it _is_ weird, in a body that’s smaller than his brother’s.

Dean hugs back, and that is what really convinces Sam that he’s been believed, because Dean would never, _ever_ hug a girl this tightly — would never, ever _cling_ like this to anyone but Sam.

“What the ruttin’ hell?” growls a voice from the end of the corridor, and River screeches back to the front of their shared mind in panic. Sam lets her have control back, because he absolutely does not know how to deal with an angry version of the bear-like mercenary who is currently glaring at them.

Dean lets go of River in a hurry. A reluctant hurry, to Sam’s knowing eye, but a hurry.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he blurts, hands in the air defensively. “I swear!”

“It _looks_ like you’re touchin’ crew,” snarls Jayne. “Which Mal told ya not to do.”

“He was not touching me,” River corrects.

Dean flinches a little.

“I ain’t _blind_ , girl,” Jayne argues. “I _saw_ him.”

“You do not understand and you do not comprehend,” River argues. “I have been… less than honest. We must speak with Captain Daddy.”

“You got _that_ right,” snaps Jayne. He glares at Dean. Sam wants to punch him in the face more than ever.

River makes soothing noises and leads them into the mess.

—

“Dean does not belong here,” River announces, as soon as the crew has gathered around the dining table.

Sam watches Dean flinch, again, and wants to hug him so badly he can taste it, again. Obviously, living in a girl’s body has not been good for his masculinity.

“What do you mean?” queries Kaylee, looking worried.

“He is from Earth-That-Was,” explains River, and watches calmly as everyone gapes. “As is his Sammy.”

“His what?” mutters Simon, and looks even more baffled. “Who?”

“His Sammy. His other half,” River repeats. She looks at her toes. “I have been sharing. He’s in my head.”

The captain does not look pleased. “You got a voice in your head, Albatross?”

“Not a voice. A person,” River corrects pseudo-patiently. “There was room inside my head, and he needed somewhere to go.”

“How do you have room inside your head, anyway?” mutters Dean.

River regards him with tilted head for a moment. “Brain is too big for one person.”

Dean looks unimpressed. “Yeah, well, Sammy’s not exactly stupid, either.”

River keeps looking at him for a few more moments, then Sam grins and she announces happily, “You are _proud_ of him!”

“Of course I’m proud of him,” sputters Dean, his ears turning red and his face screwing up with embarrassment. “What the hell, lady.”

“Be nice, Dean, a little chick flick won’t hurt you,” says Sam brightly.

“Says the one of us _inside a girl_.”

“Is that more or less naughty than a girl inside _me_?” Sam retorts, and River begins to giggle.

“Okay, that’s really gorram weird,” the captain declares, interrupting them with wide eyes. “Maybe I’ve gone crazy, but yeah, okay, I believe you, River.”

“Gorramit,” Jayne grumbles, looking like he isn’t sure who to glare the most daggers at; Dean, Mal or River.

“River,” Simon says disapprovingly, once he’s over his shock, “when this is over, we’re going to have a talk about keeping secrets.”

 _Yeah, see how that works for you_ , thinks Sam, and River grins innocently at her brother.


	2. Dean

Sam is reluctant to tell anyone much of what he knows about how he and Dean ended up in the future, even Dean if the others are around, which they always are because nobody trusts Dean with River even if they do believe that Sam’s inside her — maybe _because_ they believe; it wouldn’t be the first time their fraternal relationship has been interpreted as something else. At the same time, Dean flat out refuses to tell anyone more than he has to about who he and Sam are, what they do and what they’ve done, so they don’t really end up talking all that much.

River and Sam _do_ explain their theory that, now Dean’s finally _with_ Sam, they have a decent chance of finding a way to send them back, and the rest of Serenity’s crew pretty quickly agrees to help them with it — once they’ve completed their current job, of course. Mal is at his most captain-y as he reminds Dean of the second condition for getting on his boat in the first place, and nobody else can think of a particularly good reason they would need to make sending Sam and Dean home the priority.

Dean soon realizes that there are, however, certain problems which arise from all the gun-carrying members of Serenity trying to commit crime off-ship when they don’t trust Dean as far as Kaylee could throw him.

Literally.

“Tell me again why I’m out here with you?” mutters Dean, stomping across the dusty field behind Jayne as they head into town to meet the man who’s going to give them whatever goods their contact on Persephone has hired them to fetch. The sun is bright, the air is dry and hot, his boots rub against his heels in ways he wasn’t aware of and doesn’t like, and Dean does not consider this any kind of fun. He brushes a hand over the empty spot at the small of his back where he usually keeps his gun. “Out here and _unarmed_.”

“I told you already,” says Mal, glancing across at Dean and looking a close approximation of reasonable. “Jayne wasn’t too pleased with the idea of you staying behind on the ship unsupervised.”

“What I said was I’d shoot him ‘fore I left him there alone with the womenfolk,” Jayne corrects gruffly. He shoots Dean a deeply suspicious look.

“Simon is still on the ship, too,” Zoe points out mildly.

“Like I said. Womenfolk,” retorts Jayne.

Dean grimaces and rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt any of them, you know,” he informs them. “I _like_ them.”

“Yeah,” acknowledges Mal, less than thrilled.

“That’s the gorram _problem_ ,” Jayne growls — he actually _growls_ ; Dean didn’t know anyone but an evil Sam could actually _do_ that — and he throws a particularly pointed glare at Dean while reaching down to stroke a palm across the butt of the gun at his hip. (Jayne has lots of weapons he could have chosen to fondle threateningly. On an average day, he’s got at least three guns and a knife on his person; on this, a work day, he seems to be carrying roughly half the number of guns the Winchesters keep in the Impala’s trunk.)

“Where does everyone keep getting this impression I’m _dangerous_?” Dean grumbles to no-one in particular. Predictably, he doesn’t get an answer. He goes back to stomping in silence.

—

It turns out that the man they’d been sent to collect unnamed contraband items from has a notable fondness for pretty men. One look at Dean had him falling over himself to make things as easy as possible for Serenity’s crew. It also had him hinting unsubtly that maybe the lot of them — or, oh, just Dean — might like to stay for a drink. Or several. Or just a good time, drinks optional.

Dean isn’t sure who’s more amused by the story when Mal tells it that evening over dinner once they’re safely away into the Black; Sam, because of the look on Dean’s face, or River, because of the look on Jayne’s.

“He ain’t even that ruttin’ shiny,” Jayne complains, loudly and for the fifth time. He stabs at his protein mash and looks generally disagreeable.

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you have preferred he hit on _you_?” Dean snaps, slouching harder over the plate of food he’s picking at. He very pointedly doesn’t look at the chick’s face that Sam is wearing. “Because I didn’t exactly ask him to pick me.”

River — it could be Sam, but Dean has decided to be gracious and not assume things like that — giggles. “It’s your pretty, pretty face, no-one can resist it,” the girl’s body says sweetly, and yeah, that’s definitely Sam speaking.

Dean glares at him. So does Jayne.

“Well, I think it’s just lovely that you two are bonding like this,” interjects the captain, grinning at them from the head of the table. “It’s just adorable that you both wish—”

There’s a sudden loud thump from the cargo bay, cutting off Mal’s words, and River stiffens, looking shocked and confused. Dean instinctively reaches for a gun he doesn’t have, and moves with Jayne and Zoe toward the bay even though he’s _still_ technically unarmed, damn it.

What they find there has him shoving past the other two and leaping down the catwalks to run across the bay, shouting “SAMMY!”

Hunched over the naked sprawl that is Sam Winchester’s body, Castiel looks up at the sound of Dean’s voice. He beams restrainedly. “Dean! I had hoped that would work.”

“What did you do?” snaps Dean, reaching them and hitting his knees. Gently, he pulls Sam’s torso into his lap, where he can cradle Sam’s head against his chest. “Is he all right? How did you get here? Sam!”

“You know I cannot find your body,” says Castiel calmly. He gets to his feet and gives the crew — all stopped, standing spread across the catwalks except for River, who doesn’t seem to have followed them — a calm once over. “So I searched for Sam’s consciousness. I had hoped you’d be with him.”

“Is he okay?” Dean demands, not looking up from Sam’s face. “How do we get him back in his body? Will he—”

Sam’s eyes open.

“Dean?” he croaks, sounding confused and hopeful.

“ _Sammy_ ,” sighs Dean in heartfelt relief, burying his face in Sam’s neck, and just sort of… clings.

“Fella don’t look much like a ‘little Sammy’ to me,” mutters Kaylee eventually, her eyes wide. “Not exactly _little_ , is he.”

“Kaylee!” protests her husband, cheeks flushing a dull red.

“What?” Kaylee asks innocently. “I’m just sayin’. Ain’t like we can’t all see, or nothin’.”

“Perhaps we should find Sammy some clothes,” Zoe suggests calmly. Her eyes flick toward their gun-hand. “You got anything that’d fit him, Jayne?”

Jayne grunts, looking even more surly than usual. “Yeah, he looks to be about my size. Ain’t gorram givin’ away my clothes to some sly weirdo, though.”

“Call it a loan,” Mal instructs. “They might even pay you for use of ‘em.”

“What the fuck happened, Sammy?” Dean demands, finally pulling away from Sam slightly. Very slightly. He ignores _Serenity_ ’s crew. “Seriously, what the _fuck_ happened?”

Sam has his eyes closed again, one arm wrapped around Dean’s back and the other clinging to Dean’s neck. He shakes his head. Obviously realizing that Dean isn’t talking about his body’s sudden appearance, but rather the situation as a whole, he answers, “There was this— passage in the book. I didn’t mean to read it out loud.”

“A spell?” Dean looks over at Castiel. “You know anything about this, Cas?”

Sam opens his eyes. “Castiel’s here?”

“I—” Castiel starts to say, but is interrupted by the captain.

“Castiel? As in, the Castiel in the _Bible_?” Mal blurts, his eyebrows rising. “Musta had some mighty religious parents.”

Castiel blinks impassively at Mal. “I have no parents. I have only my Heavenly Father, as I am an angel of the Lord.”

The crew exchange glances while Mal snorts. “Sure ya are. And I’m the king of all Lon—”

His voice dies abruptly, his staring eyes going to Sam and Dean, still wrapped around each other on the floor. He pales.

Inara steps closer to him. “Mal? What is it?” she asks.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just hallucinating,” Mal announces, too loudly.

“Sir?” Zoe ventures warily.

“There’s no way those two—” Mal gestures at Sam and Dean, “— are who I think they think they are. I’m just going feng le and imagining that they’re the Winchesters.”

Dean’s head jerks around, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Because the Winchesters,” Mal goes on, “ _aren’t real_.”

“What the fuck is he talking about, Cas?”

“I would assume that he has read your Gospel,” says Castiel evenly, regarding Mal thoughtfully. “Though he does not appear to have believed it.”

“Remind me to punch Chuck the next time we see him,” mutters Dean.

“It’s hardly fair to blame the Prophet,” Castiel admonishes, his voice bland.

Dean tips his head back and narrows his eyes up at Castiel. “How about we blame the angels?”

“You’re not punching Cas,” mumbles Sam preemptively. He moves to sit up, and Dean’s arms tighten visibly for a moment before allowing Sam to pull away. He keeps one arm firmly around Sam’s shoulders, as Sam winces and tentatively raises a hand to his head. “You aren’t punching anyone.”

“I might punch that prissy doctor,” Dean argues, twisting his torso so he can glare at the crew, “if he doesn’t get down here and make sure you’re all right.”

Most of the crew startles, the words jolting them out of their gaping state.

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam admonishes. Dean pretends not to have heard him.

Simon has already started down the catwalks. “I— yes, of course.”

“Why don’t you go see about those clothes, Jayne?” Zoe suggests, finally hoisting her mare’s leg up to her shoulder.

Jayne grumbles, but goes.

After Simon has assured Dean that Sam is physically fine, and Sam has shrugged his way into Jayne’s clothes, everyone returns to the dining room — where they find River sitting on the floor, slightly off-balance at being alone in her head again but beaming at the sight of Sam, alive and well and in his own skin.

“You are much more elevated than I imagined,” she declares dreamily.

“Well, you are on the floor; I’m cheating.”

She giggles.

Jayne glares even harder at Sam, and glares a little more at Dean for good measure. Used to this, Dean rolls his eyes and shoves his brother into a chair at the table, sitting close at his side. When Castiel hesitates next to him, Dean grunts irritably and tugs the angel into the seat on his other side. “What are you _doing_ here?” he demands.

Castiel’s eyes flicker briefly, like he actually considered looking away before he answered. “I wanted to check on you. And Sam. When you did not answer your phone, I asked Bobby where you’d been when he last heard from you.”

“That… makes sense, I guess.”

“Thank you. Dean,” begins Castiel, sounding rather weak. He looks paler than usual. “I suspect I will be passing out shortly. I think I should eat first.”

Immediately, Inara produces an empty plate, fills it, and sets it in front of the angel. Dean thinks it looks kind of instinctive. Castiel almost smiles gratefully at her.

“Where’d you find Sam, anyway?” asks Dean. “His body, I mean.”

“In the motel room where you were staying.” Castiel tilts his head and looks almost thoughtful. “It was fortunate you’d paid several days in advance. The owner was most disgruntled.”

“… you didn’t leave my baby there alone, did you?” Dean demands, looking alarmed.

“Of course not,” insists Castiel as righteously as possible with his mouth stuffed with protein mash. “I took Sam’s body and drove her to Bobby’s. It was actually Bobby’s idea to go after you.”

Dean exhales heavily, muttering “Thank God for Bobby.”

“I am sure my father appreciates the sentiment,” Castiel murmurs, absently, before shoveling the last of his food into his mouth.

“You’re gonna be able to take us back, though, right?” questions Sam anxiously.

Castiel’s head tips forward in the barest impression of a nod. “Yes. I— I will. But I will require a… considerable amount of… rest. First.”

Dean isn’t particularly surprised when the angel passes out barely a moment later, tipping over to land face-first on his empty plate. “He’ll be fine,” he assures the more anxious members of the crew, who are staring at Castiel in disbelief. “Really, I swear. He does this.”

“Is he really an angel?” questions Kaylee, looking touchingly worried.

“Oh, yeah, he’s definitely an angel,” Sam replies, pulling Castiel’s plate away from his face and looking like he’s about to stand and move the angel from the table. “I think maybe—”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Dean snaps at him, getting quickly to his own feet. “You sit there and get used to being a Sasquatch again. I’ll take him down to—”

“—the infirmary,” interjects Simon firmly. “I’d like to look him over and make sure he’s all right.”

“He’s fine,” Dean insists, but he allows Mal to help him lift Castiel and carry him in Simon’s wake down to the infirmary. As they’re passing through the door, he throws a swift warning look at Sam to stay put until he gets back, and notices that Jayne is staring at Sam like he’s trying to decide which joint to shoot first.

Dean smirks. Jayne is totally welcome to try it; Sam can take care of himself, and afterward, Dean can introduce Jayne to the world of hurt reserved for people who fuck with his little brother.

“That’s… a right unsettling expression you’ve got yourself, there,” remarks Mal, as they’re settling Castiel in the examination chair.

“I’m just thinking of how glad I am to see my brother,” says Dean breezily, quickly switching to a wide smile.

Simon and Mal both stare at him.

“What?”

“You two must have a _very_ interesting relationship,” Simon mutters. He moves away, reaching for something or other very complicated looking on a shelf.

Mal keeps staring. “You’re actually brothers?” he blurts, sounding confused.

“Uh, yeah.” Dean frowns. “Of course we are.”

Mal looks considerably uncomfortable. “I mean— It’s only that, y’know, most theologians say that ‘brothers’ was just a, er, contemporarily acceptable definition of your, uh, devotion to each other, and I wouldn’t wanna—”

“Sammy is my _brother_ ,” Dean repeats insistently, frowning even harder and narrowing his eyes.

“Okay,” Mal agrees hurriedly. “That’s— We’re okay with that.”

Dean thinks he hears Simon mutter “Crazy space incest,” but chooses to ignore it, because Sam would probably be mad if he killed the brother of the person whose body he’s been sharing.

“That’s nice,” he says presently, instead.

“And,” continues Mal, moving his gaze to Castiel’s prone form, “that one, you’re sure he’ll be all right?”

“Time-travel usually does that to him,” Dean answers.

Simon and Mal both stare at Castiel.

“He’s done… _that_ … before?” exclaims Mal, eventually.

“I thought you read the Winchester Gospel,” mutters Dean dryly.

“Only parts of it.” Mal shrugs, looking a little uncomfortable. “And it’s been a long time.”

Dean grunts, and decides maybe he prefers it that way. He never did like it when people seemed to know more about his life than he did.

—

Whatever problem Jayne had with Dean while Sam was still sharing space with River, it disappears pretty much as soon as Castiel shows up with Sam’s body. Jayne’s apparent problems with _Sam_ are a completely different story, but Dean decides not to worry about those; unless Jayne actually does something to Sam, River can deal with her own attack dog.

Castiel stays passed out cold, and Dean does his best to avoid anyone but Sam (who spends a sickening amount of time with River and Kaylee), for the three days it takes them to get back to Peresephone. The rest of the crew looks embarrassingly relieved at the chance to get off-ship.

Sam, oddly enough, looks smug about something.

Dean doesn’t find out what, until Mal starts talking about heading out to deliver their illegal goods.

“Please, please take Dean,” begs Sam, one of his most innocent (and therefor least believable, if you’re Dean) smiles on his face. “He really, really needs to meet Badger.”

“Who is Badger?” asks Dean before anyone else can say anything, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

“One of our contacts,” Mal explains. He considers Dean, then Sam, then Dean again, and finally, tosses a gun at Dean. “Here.”

“You’re lucky that ain’t one of mine,” Jayne growls. Everyone else pretends not to have heard him.

Dean stares down at the pistol. “You’re giving me a weapon?”

Mal nods blithely, while behind him, Zoe looks long-suffering. “Just don’t shoot Sam or Jayne. Albatross wouldn’t like it.”

Dean glances around the cargo bay at all the cheerfully violent people who have, up to this point, barely trusted him with a wrench and a kitchen knife. Sam is beaming. “… just how dangerous is this Badger guy?”

Jayne snorts, without looking at Dean. “Badger? He ain’t dangerous at all.”

“Practically harmless,” agrees Zoe, who’ll be sitting the meeting out to keep an eye on Sam and the ship.

Sam keeps beaming.

Dean is not reassured at all. He checks that the gun’s loaded then tucks it away, deciding he’s not going to get anything from the crew, and to just keep his suspicions to himself until he has something definite to accuse Sam of.

—

Badger’s den of iniquity and crime-bossery is located somewhere in the depths of a warren of industrial-size cargo shipping containers. Dean would make some truly dreadful puns if he weren’t so unimpressed.

Someone — Dean assumes him to be Badger, by the greeting Mal calls him — is loitering near the entrance of said den. He actually smiles when he sees the men from _Serenity_ , though any particular emotions behind the expression are impossible for Dean to make out.

“Captain Reynolds,” he calls, his voice a close relative of cheerful. “I was just about to start waiting for you.”

Eyes just about bugging out, Dean all but trips over his own feet. “What?” he blurts. “You? How— Crowley?”

Jayne sends him a confused look, while Mal ignores him and Badger gives him a once-over. “Well,” the little man concludes after a moment, “your new guy doesn’t seem all that bright. Pretty, though.”

“So we hear,” Mal replies jovially. “We’d also like to hear about getting paid for our crime.”

With an out-swept arm, Badger gestures them in, saying, “By all means, come and give me my goods, and we’ll tal—”

The words are cut off when a tall, heavyset man gets in their way after they’ve barely stepped inside. Jayne gives him a grumpy look, while Badger seems surprised. Dean is still staring at Badger.

Mal raises an eyebrow at the man standing between them and Badger. “You get new help too, Badger? Kinda lacking in manners, don’tcha think?”

With a displeased grunt, Badger makes a shooing motion at the goon, actually slapping his side. “Move, you lump. Let the men in.”

For a moment, it seems as if everything’s fine — except Badger’s goon gets a good look at Dean and _flinches away like he’s been punched_ , grabbing Badger and hauling him between them.

Though Badger does look familiar (in a creepy and unsettling way that Sam is going to pay for later), Dean has never seen _this_ man before, and there’s only one thing that has ever reacted to him like that besides people he hustled while playing the mean drunk; demons.

“Uh,” says Dean, staring wide-eyed at the heavyset, now panting man. “Christo?”

The man’s eyes go pitch black, and the demon hisses.

“Holy rutting Buddha,” Badger gasps, and tries to squirm away from his underling.

Jayne’s gun is already out of his holster and pointed at the demon. “What in the gorram hell is goin’ on here?”

Dean doesn’t bother pulling his weapon. “Fuck,” he mutters feelingly.

“ _Winchester_ ,” spits the demon. “What are _you_ doing here? You’re _dead_.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Dean says, somewhat apologetically. “On the subject, I’d just like it noted that while I’m sure you’d like to try and kill me, it has a tendency not to stick, so if you could maybe consider _not_ trying, I’d—”

“I think not,” interrupts the demon, smirking.

The next moment has Jayne and Mal thrown against the far wall, Badger crumpled in an unconscious heap on the floor, and the demon advancing on a frozen Dean. Badger probably has other underlings, but Dean can’t hear or see any, so he doesn’t particularly care about them at the moment.

“This is a really bad idea,” remarks Dean, backing away a few steps, before the demon’s power gets hold of him and he’s forced still.

“I think not,” the demon repeats, starting to sound a little gleeful. “Look at you, the Great Dean Winchester, all helpless, in front of little old _me_.”

The demon wraps a thick, meaty hand around Dean’s throat. Dean winces and chokes out, “Going old-school, huh?” right before his airflow is completely restricted.

“You’re not scary at all,” the demon laughs. It leans over, putting its face right up close to Dean and breathing sulfurous air at him when it laughs. “My, my, what _is_ the big deal about you? You’re just a silly little inflated lege—”

“You know,” muses a low, dangerous voice, “you really should have just kept your head down. Pretty stupid, showing yourself.”

Everyone’s attention snaps to the doorway; Sam is standing just inside the room, a murderous sort of smirk on his face. The demon hisses in panic, his grip on Dean’s throat tightening convulsively.

“ _You_.”

“Because now you’ve hurt Dean,” Sam continues, as if the demon hadn’t spoken, taking a step closer, “and I _don’t like that_.”

 _Sammy_ , Dean tries to say, but all he can choke out is an indistinct wheeze. The edges of his vision start to go a little hazy. Sam’s eyes get even darker and he raises his hand, fingers spread.

The demon chokes and releases Dean — who drops to his knees gasping — before the possessed man’s head snaps back and a cloud of black smoke pours from his mouth. Badger’s underling collapses limply, while the smoke swirls in a tight cloud above him. Sam closes his fingers into a fist without preamble, and the smoke erupts in flames, dissolving into nothingness after less than a second.

“Dean?” calls Sam immediately, crossing the room to his brother’s side, as the other men in the room stand shakily under their own power. “Dean!”

“Sammy,” Dean hoarsely reassures him. “Sam. ‘M okay.”

“What the hell _happened_ , Dean?” Sam catches Dean’s arm as he stumbles, and doesn’t let it go once Dean’s steadied himself. “You were supposed to get freaked by the guy who looked like a demon, not find a _real_ demon.”

“Sorry to disappoint, princess,” Dean mutters. “Be nice to the guy who just got choked.”

“Either of you want to tell me what just happened?” suggests Mal, coming up next to them and eyeing the still-murderous look on Sam’s face warily.

Sam and Dean give him a measuring glance, before Sam says, “Congratulations, you’ve just seen your first demon possession.”

—

They conclude their business with Badger in what is, according to all, record time. Badger asks very few questions, once he’s been brought around, beyond a simple “And you took care of it?”

Mal nods shortly, while Jayne looks at Sam with new, wary respect.

Badger doesn’t haggle price.

“What were you even doing there?” Dean finally pulls himself together enough to demand of Sam, grumpily, when they’re almost back to _Serenity_. “I thought you were staying on the ship.”

“Yeah, well, Cas woke up,” says Sam, still looking vaguely psychopathic. “Said he’ll be able to take us back tonight. I wanted to tell you.”

“And you couldn’t _wait_?”

Sam huffs exasperatedly. “Why are you complaining about this, Dean? I just _saved_ you!”

“About that,” interrupts Mal, pausing at the foot of his cargo ramp to turn and frown at them. “Will I be getting an explanation for that little demon party trick of yours?”

“ _Demon_?” exclaims Kaylee, appearing at the top of the ramp and looking something between confused and alarmed. “What about a demon?”

“Demons aren’t real, mei mei,” Inara says from somewhere behind her. “Mal’s probaly just—”

“Yes, demons _are_ real,” Sam and Dean correct in unison. “Trust us.”

Kaylee definitely looks alarmed now. “They are?”

“You’re back awful fast, Cap’n,” Zoe accuses, from where she’s apparently been sitting on the steps to the catwalks the whole time. “What’s this about demons?”

“Again, _explanation_ , Winchesters,” persists Mal, but by this point, almost half the crew has turned up inside the cargo bay looking curious.

There really isn’t much of an alternative but to march themselves onboard the ship, call everyone (but Cas, who remains innocently in the infirmary) together, and describe what happened at Badger’s.

“Huh.” Zoe raises an eyebrow, just slightly. “So. Demons.”

Mal nods. “Apparently. And, apparently, Sasquatch here can get even freakier than our Li’l Albatross.”

“How is that, exactly?” demands Jayne, speaking for the first time since they left Badger’s den.

“I have… abilities,” confesses Sam, batting at his bangs sheepishly. “Mostly, I blame Lucifer.”

“Lucifer,” Simon parrots flatly. “As in, the _Devil_? The actual Devil?”

“Yeah. He was— For awhile, he was piggybacking me like I did with River. Only, less nice.”

Simon blinks, his going-mad face firmly in place.

Mal frowns. “So, let me get this straight. You were possessed, by _Satan_ , and now you have abilities that include pulling gorram demons out of folk?”

Sam nods. “Yeah,” he confirms. He clears his throat. “Though, I don’t get the chance much. They tend to run away if they know I’m coming.”

The crew stares at him, speechless. Dean grins without humor.

“They’re kind of terrified of little Sammy here,” he declares, almost proudly.

Sam’s about to reply, when Jayne jumps in, eyes narrowed in consideration, and asks Dean, “He always react the way he did earlier, when demons mess with you?”

“Basically?” answers Dean. “Yes.”

“Yeah, well, you must be made out of demon catnip, or something,” Sam retorts sharply. “The way they’ve all got such a hard-on to fuck you up.”

“… terrified makes sense,” Mal decides, taking in the angry gleam that Sam’s eyes have acquired just from thinking about demons coming near Dean.

“Yeah,” agrees Kaylee, her eyes very wide; she didn’t see Sam with the demon, but Sam figures his expression right now is frightening enough. “All _kindsa_ sense.”

“Sam’s got a few issues,” Dean informs them. When Sam transfers his glare to Dean, his brother hurries to add, “Not that he hasn’t got reason for ‘em. He does. Lots of reasons. _Awesome_ reasons.”

“ _Dean_ ,” whines Sam, pulling a bitchface.

“If we could return to the point?” Zoe suggests coolly, but firmly. “These demons. There are more of ‘em?”

Sam and Dean nod in unison.

“There a way for non-Sam people to get rid of ‘em?”

Sam and Dean nod again.

Zoe gives the captain a pointed look, and Jayne clears his throat loudly.

Mal levels a flat stare down the table at the Winchesters.

“Teach us.”

—

“You shouldn’t know any of this. _No-one_ knows anymore,” a demon snarls from the lips of an Alliance agent a few months later, glaring at Mal with inky eyes. “How do you _know_?”

Safe on the outside of the devil’s trap carved into Serenity’s cargo ramp, Mal shrugs. Beside him, Jayne hefts a shotgun (loaded with rock salt, like Dean had shown him) and smirks as he leans in. “Tell me somethin’. You ever hear the name Winchester?”

The demon reels back as if it’s been doused in holy water. “ _No_ ,” it whimpers.

“We had us a friendly chat,” Mal says conversationally.

On his other side, Zoe finds the right spot in the notes Sam had helped her make, and starts speaking. Latin leaves her lips in an awkward but unbroken stream, and the demon sizzles and screams.

There are hunters in the ‘verse again.

**Author's Note:**

> This work can also be read [on LiveJournal](http://gailsauce.livejournal.com/67373.html) or [on Dreamwidth](http://gailsauce.dreamwidth.org/66881.html?style=site)


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